


A Mile or More

by lily22 (segfault)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Awkwardness, Bodyswap, Gen, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segfault/pseuds/lily22
Summary: Zoro. Usopp. Bodyswitch. There may be pineapples involved.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Usopp
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	1. body is a weapon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in August 2007. 
> 
> I've marked it as complete with 3 chapters, since there won't be more coming, but I never really wrote much of an ending on it.

It was Zoro’s habit not to wake up all at once. He liked to get bearings on his surroundings first before he opened his eyes, in that delicate haze before full wakefulness where everything was so distant, yet so crystal clear. There was something like a mental checklist, a way to evaluate his surroundings and decide whether to yawn and go back to sleep, or to duck, roll, and come up swinging. The first item on that list was always to check for the reassuring weight of his katana.

It wasn’t there.

He jerked upright, instantly prepared to tackle, maim, and/or shred, with his bare hands, whoever was responsible for this grievously wrong state of affairs. Dimly he was aware of the other minor details he would usually take note of—massive headache, the familiar rocking motion of the Going Merry, the cry of seagulls as they tried to escape his captain’s stretchable mouth, someone screaming in his ear…

Ignoring all of these as unimportant, Zoro’s vision tunneled in on three familiar shapes suspended in the air before him like a vision, some floating symbolic representation of his greatest dream. When he realized that they were attached to the source of the screaming, he decided that he’d at least hear it out before he murdered the thief. Zoro made an attempt to focus.

“I’m sorry… don’t kill me… so sorry…” he could barely make out. The voice sounded a little off, but the breathless panic he definitely recognized.

“Usopp,” he identified in a growl. “Why are you touching my katana?”

Usopp stopped momentarily, as if to adjust track, but resumed with barely a pause. “Sorry… please I… accident…”

With an impatient sigh, Zoro grabbed for the katana. The smarter part of his brain, the one that spoke with a voice like Kuina’s, began to snigger.

With a meticulousness he seldom showed elsewhere, he unsheathed each sword in turn and carefully checked for tampering or any sign of general wear. Though they looked fine from hilt to shining blade, they somehow felt different in his hands, meeting his palm in the wrong places, rougher and heavier than he was used to. Or was that—

“Why are my arms so—?” Zoro began. He looked at Usopp, _really_ looked, for the first time. Usopp’s nervous mantra picked up in pace and pitch, and the snigger developed into an all-out guffaw.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Zoro climbed out of the hammock, stumbling slightly on unfamiliar legs, and looked down at himself. He inspected the tip of his nose, and found that he didn’t even need to cross his eyes to do so. When he looked up, it was like looking into a mirror—except he knew that he couldn’t have been making that stricken expression, because he was too busy scowling. “You have two minutes,” he told himself. “Explain.”

“Well… that is…” Usopp began. Zoro watched his own mouth open and close with fascination that was quickly dawning into horror: he was pretty sure it had never moved that quickly. Ever. And did his earrings really sway so much when he talked? “The Great Captain Usopp-sama has magnanimously gifted you with the opportunity to spend time in his body—uh, as his body. That is, uh, as him… as me. Yes, I understand that you will be overwhelmed with gratitude, but I do not require any thanks for it is in my nature to Ihavetogonowveryimportantbye!”

Zoro caught Usopp by the arm, undeterred by how much harder it now was to wrap his hand around it entirely. “I can barely walk in this body. I’m not going to kill you just yet. Now, try again. What happened.”

“You really don’t remember?” Usopp looked honestly surprised.

“Remember what?”

“The… the pineapple lady.”

_“You’re the world’s_ second _greatest swordsman?” Zoro sneered. “How can you be proud of a title like that? Sorry, but I have no interest in second best. Besides, why do you have spikes coming out of your head?”_

_“They’re not spikes!” She drew away locks of bleached hair from the messy nest piled on top of her head; the spikes were actually leaves growing out of a rather ripe pineapple. Presumably she felt this made more sense than mere spikes. “I usually only show this to my victims after they’re sprawled on the ground, helpless and defeated before my blade. But in your case, think of it as advance—Wait! Where are you going?”_

Zoro groaned and rubbed his eyes, accidentally brushing against his new, longer nose, which gave a twang. “Pineapple, yeah. Got it. So what happened? I thought we left?”

“Er… no. You… fought.” Usopp considered. “You were doing very well, as per my instructions! And then there was the…”

“The stupid dart!” Zoro recalled suddenly.

“The apple guy, yeah,” said Usopp, with less enthusiasm.

_“Let’s go, Usopp, this is a waste of time. If we don’t get everything back to the ship, the harpy’ll charge us.”_

_“Don’t you think you’re underestimating the world’s second best?” came the voice from behind him._

_Zoro was calm. He felt his body loosen in preparation for the fight; tension would only be a barrier to action, an impediment to the flow of his movements. Instead, he relaxed completely, trusting in his senses and his reflexes. His blood fairly hummed with the prospect of battle, and he counted off charged seconds by the beat of his heart. Three… two… one…_

_He parried the blow with the laziest of swings, eyes still closed. “It’s shameful for a swordsman to attack an opponent’s back,” he commented as she retreated._

_Then he saw her sword for the first time, caught a glance and was forced to turn around for the all-out stare. All arrogance vanished from his face, as he was momentarily struck dumb. “D-did you do that yourself?” he said, stammering involuntarily._

_“What?”_

_“The… pineapples. On your…” he couldn’t finish. He also couldn’t laugh in the middle of a fight; that would have been too insulting. Instead he charged, intending to get this over with as soon as possible, no longer even excited now that he’d dismissed her as any potential challenge. His katana described a wide, obvious arc that he fully expected her to block._

_Instead, she did the unexpected: she screamed for help._

_Zoro froze, blade inches from her head. “Are you seriously—” he began. There was a sudden sharp pain in his leg, and then numbness._

_“Good job!” the pineapple lady cheered, flashing a thumbs-up to someone behind Zoro, who was suddenly aware that their fighting arena was ringed with spectators. Or not spectators, he realized, when they all as one lifted up their hair, to reveal the various fruits affixed to their heads._

_“Is this some sort of cult?” Zoro gasped, as he sank to the ground. “And why is this thing so huge?”_

_“It’s a tranquilizer normally used to subdue Sea Kings,” the pineapple lady informed proudly, putting her sword to his neck. “And now that I have bested Roronoa Zoro, the once-famed pirate hunter of East Blue—Hey, are you_ snoring _?”_

“That cheating _vegetable_!” Zoro snarled.

“Actually, pineapples are fruits,” Usopp supplied helpfully.

“Luffy better have beaten her up for that stupid trick. Well, he must have, since I’m alive and all.”

“Actually, I—” Usopp hesitated, which was very unlike him.

“You what?”

“Well, Luffy wasn’t there, remember? It was just—”

“You. It was just you. Right. So how did we get out of that mess?”

“Need you even ask?” Usopp drew himself up, and Zoro could only think how bizarre it was to see that expression of forced smugness on his own face. “The Great Captain Usopp knew it was up to him and him alone to avenge his fallen comrade. Together with his 8000 followers, he boldly stood down the fearsome pineapple lady who had slain Roronoa Zoro, the once-famed pirate hunter of East Blue.”

“Not slain,” Zoro corrected, to no effect. “And stop using her phrasing.”

“Our assault on the forces of evil was not without peril, but we fought through hail and lightning, all for the sake of nakama! Upon recognizing the superiority of our skills, the fruit lady and her countless followers quickly turned and fled.”

Zoro extracted the more reasonable portions of Usopp’s story and tried to piece them together with what few fragments of memory remained to him. “So… it started raining, and the cult ran away?”

Zoro watched himself deflate. “They did say something about not wanting to get their coiffures wet.”

“Right.”

“But my Tabasco Star was responsible for getting pineapple lady’s sword away from your throat! Without Captain Usopp’s bravery, you would have been dead for sure!”

Zoro grunted. He considered trying to speed up Captain Usopp’s narrative with a bit of metallic suggestion, but he wasn’t even sure he could even move without falling over.

“You know, Zoro, I really would have saved you if that rain hadn’t come,” Usopp said, voice suddenly quiet and earnest, as though it were really important that he say this. Then he broke the moment by adding, “You may not know this, but the Great Captain Usopp once defeated fifty fruit-bearing swordsmen in ten minutes! No, five! And afterwards I ate the fruit, too!”

“Just get on with it,” Zoro sighed.

“Get on with it?”

“Why do I look like you now?”

“Oh. That.” Usopp laughed nervously, which just sounded weird in Zoro’s voice. “Well, it was raining, and then there was this uh. Witch.”

“A witch.”

“She was really nice though!”

_Captain Usopp picked Zoro up with ease. That was nothing! When Usopp was only three years old, he saved a town from a volcanic eruption by holding a 500-ton umbrella over the city until the lava stopped flowing. I can see you are too impressed for words. Very well then, I won’t tell you about the time I helped hatch the egg of a giant griffin eight times the size of the Going Merry!_

_Of course, I say, “helped,” but actually I was responsible for ugh. Right. So, easily carrying Zoro’s weight, Captain Usopp marched proudly through the city streets. The rain pounded down fiercely, but Usopp refused to yield so long as his nakama was in need. Just then, Zoro gave a terrible, wracking cough. Captain Usopp, in all his wisdom, realized that he needed to get his injured friend out of the cold, at any cost!_

_With his hawk-like eyes, Usopp spotted the lighted windows of a small house shining through the storm. He carried Zoro effortlessly to the front door and knocked._

_“Excuse me, fair lady,” he said to the woman who answered, for he was a noble man of great chivalry, and could overlook a few moles and wrinkles. “I was wondering if you could provide my friend and myself with shelter through this storm.”_

_Taken in as she was by Usopp’s confident yet polite demeanor, she opened the door wider to allow the two travelers entrance. She helped them to dry themselves by the fire, and fetched them herbal tea so potent it seemed to drive away every trace of the cold. Perceiving that she was no ordinary woman, Usopp decided to call upon her extraordinary powers to help them in their dilemma._

_He explained that a woman with a pineapple on her head would probably be coming for Zoro as soon as the weather let up, and that his friend was far too simple—that is, honorable—to combat her deceitful ways. He feared that Zoro would lose his life in his next encounter with the pineapple woman, as he would have done in the recent battle but for the intervention of Captain Usopp._

_“Alas, the Great Captain cannot always be there to protect him. If we do not quickly vanquish this foe…” he trailed off, leaving the dreadful possibilities unsaid as he looked on his unconscious companion with great pity._

_“Is that all?” the witch laughed. “The solution is simple, Captain Usopp, and because I have seen your loyalty and strength, I will help you find what you seek.”_

“And then?” Zoro prompted, having given up protesting Usopp’s embellishments.

“Er… then nothing,” said Usopp. “Then all of a sudden I was in your body. And you were in mine.”

Zoro looked around. “So how did we get back here? And it’s not raining anymore.”

“Well, I carried you. It got a lot easier when I was you and you were me. Even though it was still pretty easy before. Did I ever tell you about the mountain lion—”

“The boat is moving.”

“Yes, boats do tend to move—”

“Why would they set sail when we obviously need to go back to that witch and have her fix all this?”

“Er.” Usopp fiddled nervously with the hem of Zoro’s shirt. “Iforgottotellthem.”

“You what?”

“I didn’t tell them what happened. Any of it.”

Zoro sat down. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at the ground. He inspected his hands carefully, poking at calluses and the softness where calluses weren’t. With some difficulty, he removed the goggles and bandana from his head; dark black curls sprang out in all directions, suddenly freed from their confines. He plucked at one, pulling it out and testing its spring. It sprang.

“That’s why I always wear the bandana,” said Usopp. “Maybe you should put it back on…”

“Maybe I’ll have it cut,” Zoro mused. He tied the unfamiliar tan bandana around his bicep, and handed Usopp the goggles. He poked at his long nose, bending it this way and that.

“You can’t cut it!” Usopp protested, though he took the goggles.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” Zoro said, leveling a glare at his former body. “A swordsman knows his body perfectly. Now I’m stuck with this one that’s the wrong shape, the wrong weight. I don’t know my limitations, I can’t rely on my own reflexes, and I definitely don’t have the right muscles to hold a sword. I’m going to have to start at the beginning again to become the best.” He unsheathed his white sword and stuck the hilt into his mouth. He held it there reflectively for a few moments, then took it back out with a grimace.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have to be in my weak, unmuscular body,” Usopp muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like I got that great a deal either. I may be stupidly strong now, I may be able to bleed oceans and still get up again after a nap, but I… I’m scarred! I took good care of that body, and now you’re just going to get it scarred up like your last one! Sorry if you think it’s weak, but that body meant something to me and, and…”

“I’m not saying you’re weak,” Zoro sighed. “So stop making such pathetic expressions with my face. What used to be my face.” He shook his head roughly, and was startled by the feel of hair bouncing on his cheeks. “Never mind. There’s not much we can do about it, so we’d better adjust quickly, before we’re needed in a fight. I’m not saying this is a weak body or anything. You’re actually pretty strong, Usopp. It’s just that I have to relearn everything. I’m going training.”

For a moment, Usopp was caught up in relief and pride. _You’re actually pretty strong._ The words played again and again in his head. “Yeah, I am pretty strong, aren’t I? Strong, brave Captain Usopp, that’s me—Hey! Hold on, you can’t go training! You’ll kill me! Zoro, wait!”

Usopp ran after Zoro, stumbling awkwardly on the stairs. Everything seemed disproportioned, and he nearly ran into Sanji as he emerged on the deck.

“Watch it, marimo,” the cook growled around his cigarette.

“Zoro, wait!” Usopp called again, earning himself Sanji’s bewilderment as he headed for Zoro’s usual training spot. He rushed towards the steps, and couldn’t help but freeze a moment when he caught sight of the back of his own head, hair flying everywhere.

“Yes?” Zoro turned.

“You can’t,” Usopp hurried up to him. “I’ll die trying to lift one of those weights of yours!”

“It’s none of your business,” Zoro said calmly, and continued walking. “This isn’t your body anymore.”

“But I still want to make sure it’s in good hands! You wouldn’t just give your puppy over to some shady restaurant or to a woman wearing dog furs! You’d want to make sure it went to a good home, where it’ll be loved and pampered and not broken by ridiculous training weights a hundred times the size of its little doggy head!”

“I’m not going to use the weights just yet. I’ll just do some push-ups to start.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Usopp nodded in relief. “I guess push-ups are okay to start with. I can only do about thirty.” He glanced at Zoro’s determined expression. “Maybe forty-five is okay.”

“I was thinking more like three hundred.”

“Three hundred?! There’s no way I can do three hundred push-ups!”

Zoro glanced at him, and it was hard to tell if Zoro was amused or annoyed. “Why don’t you give it a try? See how many push-ups you can do now.”

“Just what is going on here?” Nami broke into the conversation, marching up with a glass of something pink and frothy in one hand. “Sanji-kun said you were acting strangely.”

Usopp took one look at her and did what came naturally, which was to begin talking very very quickly. Unfortunately, as he had learned earlier, Zoro’s mouth was not used to handling such speeds. Somewhere between the master storyteller and the clumsy tongue, the words got jumbled up and confused, coming out in a bizarre sort of mumble, “Well there was this mishap with a witch and we sort of traded only we’re trying to fix it as long as he doesn’t kill my body so there’s still something left to fix—”

“We’re trading names,” Zoro cut in, jerking a thumb at Usopp. “From now on I’m Zoro. He’s Usopp. That’s all.”

Nami looked less concerned now, more annoyed. “Usopp,” she began.

“Zoro,” Zoro corrected, going down in another push-up. Usopp realized that Zoro was using only one arm, and rushed over to steady himself before his heart gave out. Zoro swatted him away in annoyance. “I can handle this, Usopp. Your hair is really annoying though.”

“That’s why I told you to keep the bandana on!” Usopp snapped. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put yours on. Hold still.” He fumbled one-handedly with the fabric knotted around his own arm, managing to free it after a few tries. He wrapped this around Zoro’s head, smoothing the locks out of Zoro’s face, tucking the problem strands behind Zoro’s ears. It was weird tying his hair back _while looking down at it_ , but he knew from experience just how to keep it out of his way.

“Mm. Thanks,” Zoro grunted, barely waiting for Usopp to finish before going down again.

“And take it easy on my body, will you?” Usopp looked around furtively, but fortunately Nami had left, annoyed at being ignored. “If there’s a way to switch back, I don’t want to find it after you tear all my muscles.”

“There’s no way back,” said Zoro flatly. “If I keep thinking I might get my old body back at any moment, I won’t be able to focus on improving this one. Now, go take a nap. You’re tired.”

Usopp automatically followed Zoro’s gesture, then stopped. “Huh? I’m not tired.”

“You’re tired. I may be here now, but,” Zoro gave a rueful grin, “I’ll always know that body perfectly. Just sit there, out of the sun, and close your eyes. You’ll be asleep in seconds.”

Usopp didn’t believe that. He didn’t take naps. There was so much to do and see and create that there just wasn’t the time for sleep. He hadn’t taken a nap since he was tiny and his forehead fit perfectly in that space under his mother’s chin. He opened his mouth to say this, but all that came out was a yawn. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, as his eyelids drifted shut and his body settled itself contentedly onto the cool floorboards. “You’re the only one lazy enough to take naps all day.”

“I’ll wake you when the sun shifts,” Zoro said, continuing his push-ups on the other hand. “You have to keep following the shade or you won’t sleep right.” Fuzzily, Usopp watched someone who looked very much like himself swing up and down, up and down, droplets of sweat gathering into trails until they ran down like water.

You should get out of the sun too, Usopp said, or thought he said, as he fought to keep his eyes from shutting completely. You’re sweating too much. Come take a break here, where it’s cool. I’ll tell you the story about how I avoided sunstroke in the great deserts of the North. There was this camel…


	2. body does not lie

“I’ve got it!” Usopp declared, upon opening his eyes. For a disorienting moment, he found himself looking up into his own face, drawn and sweating but distinctly unimpressed.

Zoro had his eyes closed and his white sword held out in front of him, so still that a feather could’ve balanced on the edge of its sheath. The dark bandana seemed as out of place over his curly hair as the grim line did in place of his full lips, and there was a deep furrow between his eyes, one that only deepened further as Usopp recovered from his shock to continue, “I know how to get us back! That witch changed us to help us defeat the pineapple lady. So once we beat her, we should be switched back! Zoro, are you listening? This isn’t permanent.”

One eye flickered open, narrowed. “Let me concentrate,” Zoro ordered.

“But that’s just it! You don’t need to concentrate.” Usopp staggered under the unfamiliar weight and structure of his new body, but managed eventually to struggle his way upright. “Urk. All we have to do is fight Miss Pineapple again. And then you can have your body back!”

“That easy, huh?” The eye shut again, but not before Usopp had caught a glimpse of something like hope, or like Zoro trying very hard not to hope. Usopp wondered if he also looked so transparent when he pretended at fearlessness, or if he simply recognized the lie on his own face. When he was back where he belonged, he would definitely have to work on that.

“Yeah,” he said, in the meantime. “So all we have to do right now is make sure the others don’t find out. We just pretend to be each other until we can get this fixed, and no one else has to know!”

“Do whatever you want,” said Zoro distantly, lips barely moving. “I need to get this right.”

“OY! Shitty marimo! Usopp! Didn’t you hear me? Dinner’s ready!”

“Sorry! We’ll be down in a moment,” Usopp placated, in Zoro’s voice. He heard Sanji choke, as though unable to believe his ears. Zoro didn’t say anything, just smirked, and Usopp crossed his arms in a purely defensive posture. “Okay, so I need to work on it. But don’t worry—imitating you is a small matter for Captain Usopp! I stayed some time with the ocean’s greatest thespian-acrobatic group, North Blue Sun! In fact, I taught them everything they know… Are you even listening to me?”

“If you want to play Roronoa, that doesn’t bother me,” said Zoro impassively, “but I still need to train. You’d better go to dinner, though, before the crap cook decides to come kick you down there himself.”

“Ah. The hazards of being you.” Usopp thought about this. It seemed like a relatively good deal, and more importantly, he was hungry. “In that case, I, Roronoa Zoro, will now go eat. And drink rum. Because I, Zoro, really like rum. In fact, I once drank—”

“Not fooling anyone.”

“Not too much rum. Got it. Oh, that reminds me. Can I have the swords?”

“No,” said Zoro instantly, without appearing to think about it.

“But no one’s going to believe I’m Zoro without swords,” Usopp protested. “I’d be like a giraffe with a short neck! An ocean without water! Come on, help me out here.”

The glare Zoro produced would probably return to terrify Usopp every time he caught a glimpse of his own reflection, assuming he ever had the luxury of seeing his own reflection in a mirror again. It was just that he’d never known his face could twist like that, or he might have used it to scare monsters and nightmares away.

“Oh yeah,” said Zoro. Something about seeing Usopp’s sudden shivering seemed to remind him of past events. He said, “By the way, why were you so scared when I woke up earlier?”

Usopp thought back to that afternoon. Creeping guiltily back into the cabin only to see Zoro beginning to stir in his hammock. Stammering first in pure terror and then in embarrassment, as every additional moment it took a half-dozing Zoro to process recent events only compounded the situation. Recounting his tale and stopping short of where things had gone hairy, so to speak. Somehow managing to escape with his life… at least temporarily.

“Eh? Oh, I don’t really remember,” Usopp waved a hand airily, “I mean, you were about to find out you were suddenly me, didn’t really expect you to be too happy about that, and plus there was the remote possibility that you might think it was my fault, though of course that couldn’t be further from the truth. Who wouldn’t be terrified out of their minds? I’d better go—”

“You had a long time to deal with that,” his head tilted slightly, so that the bandana did bizarre things with the light and cast even more shade over already dark eyes, “long enough to bring me back to the ship, wait for the weather to clear, and then help the others set sail. Something else must have happened in between,” Zoro pointed out reasonably, which suggested the swordsman had been thinking this through while Usopp slept.

He was trapped.

“Well, haven’t you… yet…?” Usopp mumbled awkwardly, and began to fidget.

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s not like we just look like each other, right? I actually… am in your body, right?”

“And?”

“So that means when I, er…” He searched desperately within the depths of his soul for an appropriate euphemism. “All afternoon, haven’t you had to, uh, go yet?”

“What, you mean—?”

“Nothing, never mind!” It was with great relief and joy that Usopp realized he was suddenly famished, and turned to make his retreat. “You just go back to your training then! Keep up the good work, as I told you!”

Behind him, he heard a dismissive sigh, a low mutter. He slowed from a run to a walk when he realized that there was no pursuit. Either Zoro hadn’t quite connected the dots, or he really didn’t care that someone else had seen and handled portions of his body that should really have been kept private in most circumstances. Of course that only led Usopp to wonder if Zoro had taken a restroom break in the midst of all that training, and if so, had he…

As he hesitated outside the galley, doorknob under hand, he heard the metallic ring of a sword being drawn. Zoro’s breaths were steady and even, his footfalls slow and sure, and without turning, Usopp could imagine the sword slicing searing patterns into the air as Zoro taught his borrowed body the many definitions of grace it had never known.

Then there was a clang, and a livid curse.

With some horror, Usopp realized that he was now listening to Zoro stiffly pick up the sword he had just dropped. He fumbled the galley door open, shoved himself in, and slammed it behind him before he could hear anything more.

“Watch where you’re going!” Sanji performed a series of agile dance moves to balance the dishes that had nearly been knocked from his hands at Usopp’s entry. “Why so jumpy? If you’re going to hold Nami-swan and Robin-chwan up, you could at least help set the table.”

“Ah, right,” said Usopp, as he meekly took a stack of empty plates. This only earned him a bewildered and suspicious glare. He remembered suddenly that he was pretending to be Zoro. What would Zoro do in this situation? Curse Sanji out, to be sure, but would he still hand out the flatware?

Five minutes and two dropped plates later, the decision was made for him. “Jeez, marimo, you’re even clumsier than usual. What’s gotten into you lately?”

He suspected that, _These hands are rougher than I’m used to_ , probably wouldn’t cut it. Insult, insult, need an insult, Usopp thought frantically to himself, as he stood over the broken shards.

“And where’s Usopp? What dumbass thing did you say to him to make him start training like _you_?” The way Sanji said you did not suggest a compliment.

“I’ve certainly never see Long Nose-kun this angry,” Robin murmured, as many hands took over the plate distribution.

“Didn’t he say something about changing names? He said he wanted to be called Zoro from now on,” said Nami.

“That proves there’s something wrong with Usopp. Who in their right mind would want to be associated with moss-head?” Sanji snorted.

“Even if he’s taking Swordsman-san’s name, I’ve never seen Swordsman-san this angry either,” Robin gave Usopp a speculative look.

Usopp thought back to the man who was training to be the world’s greatest, dropping his sword in the middle of kata practice. “Uh… That name change thing? It’s just something stupid he came up with. Ha ha, that Usopp, what a liar.”

Again, he got that frozen look of disbelief. This time it had spread on from Sanji. In fact, the whole table was giving it to him, with the exception of Chopper, who was setting out silverware, and Luffy, who hadn’t turned since Usopp came in. When he took a seat at the table, he saw why. Luffy had his face turned up to the ceiling, hands clutched over bulging rubber cheeks. There was the occasional squawk accompanied by a spray of feathers. Usopp saw a seagull’s terrified head poking out between fingers before it was pushed back in.

“Luffy, what are you doing?” Usopp asked, horrified.

Luffy said something incomprehensible, and more feathers came flying out of his mouth; this time the entire affronted seagull emerged with them. It fluttered madly around, shook itself out all over the table, and began to peck at Luffy’s face, with vicious accuracy.

“I was just trying to eat you!” Luffy wailed, trying to protect himself from the ravaging beak. “Don’t be like that, meat!”

“Luffy…” Usopp began. He stopped involuntarily to stare before he could make his mouth work again. “You do know that you can’t eat seagulls raw… or alive, for that matter… don’t you?”

“Sanji wouldn’t cook it for me so I had to hold it until I could change his mind.” Luffy was, Usopp saw, trying to grab for the seagull again, ridiculous though that seemed.

As Sanji yelled for Luffy to get the feathers (and attached seagull) out of his kitchen, Usopp realized that this was going to be a lot easier than he’d thought. Sure, he hadn’t yet perfected his Zoro-imitating techniques, but as long as they were on this ship, there would always be something more bizarre happening than a mere out of character comment or two.

Once the seagull had been evicted, Sanji brought food-laden platters to the table. They smelled heavenly as always, and Usopp automatically reached for his favorite autumn pike before he realized that something about it looked strange. Sanji’s cooking was flawless as always, and it wasn’t as if the fish looked bad. It was just… strangely unappealing. Something about the staring eye actually creeped him out, and the thought of eating it was repulsive.

“Where’s Zoro?” said Luffy suddenly, startling Usopp into dropping his spoon.

“What? I’m right here!” he said hastily, jerking a thumb at his own chest. “Roronoa Zoro, fearsome swordsman of no compare.” He said Roronoa Zoro as he might once have proclaimed Brave Captain Usopp.

Luffy gave him a reproachful look, as though he’d asked for meat and received carrots instead.

“Hey, fearsome swordsman,” said Sanji, “where are your swords? I didn’t think it was possible to make you let go of them without surgery.”

“Surgery can only do so much,” Chopper offered, raising a hoof.

Insult his eyebrows, insult his eyebrows, Usopp thought hurriedly. How hard could it be? “Your eyebrows look like lollipops!” he blurted.

More bewilderment around the table. Spoons hung suspended in midair, though Luffy’s hands never stopped moving.

“I didn’t know the word ‘lollipop’ was in your vocabulary,” Sanji said slowly.

Usopp was nothing if not imaginative, so why wasn’t this working? Maybe he was being too creative. “I hate you,” he tried.

Sanji seemed to relax at that. He opened his mouth to retort, but Zoro chose that moment to walk in, looking much happier than before, despite the sheen of sweat covering his skin. There was a distinctive black bandana wrapped over his head, and the three katana that hung from his hip gave a soft clank as he stepped through the door.

Usopp met Zoro’s gaze, and they both froze. No matter how much he was expecting it, he’d probably never get used to turning around and looking into his own face. Zoro recovered first: he turned away and stuck a thumb into his mouth.

For a moment, Usopp felt deeply insulted. Was this what Zoro thought of Usopp? Sure, he liked to exercise caution before leaping into dangerous situations, but he wasn’t a baby, and he’d never sucked his _thumb_. Then Zoro walked up to the kitchen sink and put his hand under the faucet, where he methodically washed out a nasty-looking gash on the digit in question. He dried his hand off on a towel and came back to the table. As his gaze automatically went to the rum, his face settled into confusion that Usopp easily recognized, albeit from the other side of the expression. Before he could say anything, Zoro turned to him.

“Oi, Usopp. What do you like to eat?”

Usopp nearly fell out of his seat. Couldn’t Zoro even pretend at stealth, at subtlety? “Talking to yourself, eh Usopp?” Usopp laughed nervously. “You really have to get that looked at. But you know, I’ve noticed you like to eat fish, haha. Maybe that’s a good place to start.”

Zoro gave Usopp a long, blank look. Usopp wished desperately that he could somehow mouth Zoro his lines, but fortunately the swordsman simply shrugged and took a seat without speaking.

“Who said you could tell Usopp what to do?” Sanji demanded, indignant on Usopp’s behalf in a way that Usopp might even have found touching if he had actually been Usopp and not, in fact, Zoro at the moment. “Is this how you’re making him do all those stupid exercises too? Usopp, you know you don’t have to listen to a thing this idiot moss-head says, right?”

Zoro looked up at ‘moss-head,’ but went back to eating his fish when he realized Sanji wasn’t referring to him. Belatedly, Usopp realized that he should probably defend his—well, Zoro’s—honor.

“Who are you calling moss-head, hypnotic-brows?” Usopp was a little worried about that one, but Sanji took it in his stride.

“Who else do you see with moss growing out of his head, moss-head?” Sanji countered. Pretty reasonably, Usopp thought.

“Er. At least my eyebrows are straight.”

“About the only part of you that is,” Sanji muttered.

Usopp tried to say something witty in return, he really did. Instead, he could only sputter.

“Oh?” Sanji’s curly eyebrows shot straight up. “I’m on to something there, am I?”

If looks could kill. Usopp knew very well that they couldn’t, but even so he was surprised to still be breathing. He didn’t dare check for Zoro’s response, in case meeting those eyes turned him to stone. He’d only been in this body for a few hours, after all, and he’d already disgraced it. If Zoro wasn’t already angry enough about not being able to hold a sword properly, this was probably Usopp’s death sentence.

“I hate you!” Usopp said again as he rose out of his seat, because it had worked the first time, and because it really hadn’t sounded so childish inside his head.

Sanji’s response was to kick him in the chest, hard. Usopp went flying. Upon reflection, sudden movement in the middle of such a heated dispute would naturally be taken as an attack. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that Sanji would respond with his feet.

“Not the bones, please don’t break the bones, Zoro will kill me if he can’t move when he gets his body back,” Usopp pleaded in a high-pitched voice, one that Sanji thankfully seemed unable to decipher. He risked a cautious glance at Zoro, deciding that death might be welcome after all, and was shocked to find the swordsman calmly working his way through a bowl of soup. If he seemed annoyed about anything, it was that he’d gotten a little broth on his newly long nose when he’d attempted to lift the bowl up to drink.

In the absence of anything that made sense, Usopp’s brain came to a screeching halt. He had, as Zoro, lost a verbal sparring contest, made pitiful attempts at defending his heterosexuality, and been kicked into a wall, possibly injuring his (loaned) body, and by Sanji of all people. Zoro was one of the most competitive people on the Grand Line, and it irked him to lose to Sanji in as little as getting onshore first when they docked at a new island. Shouldn’t he be flying off the handle at Usopp’s shameful performance? Where was that pride, that fierce competitive spirit?

Except… Usopp thought he was starting to understand. Zoro didn’t care about grievous bodily harm, because he seemed capable of recovering from any injury without so much as a scratch. To date, the only two people who had even been able to scar him were Hawkeyes Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world, and Zoro himself, the one who planned to take that title.

As for reputation, Zoro had said himself how little he cared for it. He was competitive not because he wanted others to fear or to respect him, but simply because he wanted to be the best. He didn’t care of everyone else thought he’d lost to Sanji this time, because he hadn’t, he knew he hadn’t, and that was enough for him.

Shakily, Usopp got to his feet. He looked at Zoro again just to be sure, but he was still spooning soup into his mouth, calm as anything.

Without really knowing why he did it, Usopp aimed a hard punch in Sanji’s direction. It was something about how it didn’t matter if he lost, didn’t matter if he made a big fool of himself—well, of Zoro—because Zoro didn’t actually care. It was probably also something to do with the body, because it knew how to fight, it wanted to fight, and though it took two more hard kicks, it finally landed a wild blow to Sanji’s stomach.

This time when Usopp looked, Zoro grinned and flashed him a quiet thumbs-up. There was this to be said about Zoro and stealth after all: though he never bothered to pretend, everything he did was done with such confidence that no one thought to question him.

Usopp grinned back, body still singing with adrenaline, and bent to offer Sanji a hand up.

He should really have been expecting to receive the spinning roundhouse instead, and maybe he was. All he could really say was that he gladly fell into the fight, unable to remember another time he felt so careless, so self-assured, so eager for violence, even of the friendly sort. It seemed he was getting the hang of this whole being Zoro thing.

* * *

It was odd, but Zoro wasn’t sleepy at all after dinner. His new body was starting to complain from the workout he’d put it through that afternoon, but as long as he was awake he could keep training. His body would recover. Probably.

As he went through what should have been the familiar movements of his kata, teaching muscles patterns he’d memorized a full decade ago, he watched a speck on the horizon as it grew larger and larger in the fading sunlight. An island already? They had only left the last one that morning (or possibly the night before—he had been too busy being tranquilized to tell). They would probably be there tomorrow, noon at the latest. Maybe he should go tell Luffy—?

The next thing he knew, it was morning, and someone who looked very much like himself was shaking him awake.

“Zoro, Zoro, are you okay?” he was asking himself.

“Ngh, Usopp?” Zoro finally remembered. He shook his head with a sort of fuzzy belligerence. “What the hell is wrong with your body? Everything just went black in the middle of training.”

“What do you mean, ‘What’s wrong with my body?’ What’s wrong with your _common sense_?! I’m a sniper! The heaviest thing I have to carry all day is my bag! You don’t go from that to gigantic weights all at once!”

“Wasn’t using weights,” Zoro grumbled, pulling himself up. His arm muscles sobbed at the effort. Actually, scratch that: every muscle in his entire body was weeping openly, begging for painkillers or at least the mercy of death. Clearly this body needed more discipline.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Usopp gave him another panicked shake. “No! No more training! We’re about to land.”

“Huh,” said Zoro. “Why didn’t you find me until now?”

“We found you as soon as we heard the thump.” Usopp crossed his arms, annoyed now that the panic had receded. It seemed Zoro was indestructible in any body. “I thought you were just asleep, only you didn’t wake up when I called you this morning, and Chopper had said something about concussion…”

“Zoro,” Nami said, coming up the stairs. Both men looked up. “Put the anchor down, will you? We’re about to land. Usopp, you’re awake? Do you want to guard the ship today? We’re only going to pick up some supplies we couldn’t get at the last town, but we don’t want that illness to act up again.”

“What illness?” Zoro asked, warily.

“Your can’t-go-on-this-unknown-island illness,” said Usopp knowledgeably. “It strikes at the worst of times.”

“Oh,” said Zoro. It did sound familiar. He followed Usopp and Nami down to the lower deck, where everyone busied themselves with landing preparations. “So… I should guard the ship, then?” he asked. It was strange how he always got that job, whether or not Nami knew he was him.

“Wait, what?” Usopp looked up, horrified, as visions of Zoro alone on the boat with weights seemed to dance before his eyes. “Wait, no, I need to stay with him. I’m uh… teaching him things. About training. And resting. Both of which are important.”

Oddly enough, Nami didn’t seem surprised. As Zoro looked around the deck, he realized that everyone had stopped to consider him and Usopp thoughtfully. Robin’s smile was particularly knowing.

“It’s just as Onee-sama said,” Nami remarked, to the world in general.

“That would explain all the time they’re spending together,” said Chopper thoughtfully.

“And how they always stop short whenever they see each other,” Nami added.

“Their odd behavior of late also makes a little more sense now,” Robin mused.

“Just make sure to actually guard the ship, okay?” Sanji ordered, though there was a peculiar softness in his voice, because despite everything else, the cook was still a romantic.

“I don’t really get what’s happening,” said Luffy, “but can’t we go on our adventure yet?”

Zoro and Usopp were left on deck, dumbstruck as their nakama climbed down to the shore, one by one.

“Don’t forget that anchor, Zoro!” Nami called over her shoulder, as they all walked away together. Usopp hastily moved to obey, gratefully latching onto the distraction. He surprised himself with how easy it was to lift the gigantic weight, though he probably shouldn’t have been.

“Usopp,” Zoro said, left toneless from the shock. “What just—”

“Pineapple ~~ Spike!”

Usopp dropped the anchor as his instincts urged him to jump to the side. Miss Pineapple didn’t land nearly as gracefully, though she stood up laughing once she had regained her balance.

“I didn’t expect to see you here so soon, Roronoa,” she crowed, as her henchmen climbed over the Going Merry’s railings. Zoro was kind of tempted to go sift through their hair to see what kind of fruits they were all growing out of their heads, but knew there were more important things at stake.

Like why she was taunting Usopp.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be fighting me,” Zoro complained, thumbing up the guard of _Wadou Ichimonji_ to reveal her blade. At least, that’s what he tried to do. He hadn’t practiced this in Usopp’s body, though, and his thumb missed entirely. He hoped no one had seen that jerky little movement. His thumb had been causing a lot of problems lately, it seemed.

“W-wait, Zoro,” Usopp waved his hands hurriedly back and forth in the universal no-no-no gesture. “If you fight her in that body, you’ll die! You’ll kill me! Maybe I should do it instead…”

Zoro made a dismissive sound: he didn’t need to be at his best to defeat this cheating fraud. He drew all three swords, though, putting _Wadou_ between his teeth. He’d need the edge, so to speak.

“So the sniper uses Santouryuu too?” Miss Pineapple asked, resting her blade carelessly on the floor in a way that would have made any real swordsman cringe. “Does the entire crew know how to wield a sword? What an interesting ship this is.”

“I’m the only one who uses Santouryuu,” Zoro said, or tried to say. Somehow, the words came out kind of muffled through the katana in his mouth. At least he hadn’t dropped _Wadou_ , and not being able to banter could only help him focus. He attacked.

“Wait, stop, I was fighting Roronoa!” shouted Miss Pineapple, suddenly panicked in the face of a blade. “Somebody help!”

Zoro expected the dart again and dodged… only to hear the crack of gunfire from all sides. He made a hasty acquaintance with the deck as a fat man jumped in front of Miss Pineapple, holding up a battered-looking shield.

Zoro checked to make sure Usopp had been out of the range of fire, rolled back onto his feet, and nearly dropped _Sandai Kitetsu_ as the katana cried out for blood. His jaw was starting to ache, too. This had never happened before. He needed more training, he needed more experience—but he also needed to win this fight. Usopp said that if he did, their bodies would be restored, and Usopp had gotten them into this mess, so he’d better be right about getting them out again.

Taking a deep breath, Zoro sheathed both swords, and took _Wadou_ from his mouth.

Shield-man stepped back into the ranks of his fruity brethren, though he had some difficulty blending in thanks to his considerable girth. Probably a watermelon on his head, Zoro thought idly, and tested his swing with a few brief slashes.

Miss Pineapple actually managed to parry these strokes, bringing her level of uselessness up on the Zoro scale from nail clipping to small pebble. However, a third strike that was no different from the previous two had her retreating by the very ingenious strategy of tumbling at Zoro’s feet. Seeing her opportunity, she grabbed Zoro’s legs and tripped him.

“Get him!” she shrilled, sounding pleased with herself.

“Are you seriously the world’s number two?!” Zoro demanded, as she scrambled up and as far away from her opponent as she could. She didn’t stop running until she was pressed up against the railing, and only then did she turn to cheer on her lackeys, who were attempting to lasso and bludgeon Zoro all at the same time.

“Stop cheating!” Zoro heard Usopp yell. “Zoro doesn’t know how to cheat, so it’s not fair if you do!”

Zoro managed to dislodge a few of his assailants through sheer will before he was forcibly reminded of the limits of this body, especially already exhausted as it was. Still, he managed to sit up just in time to see Usopp heave the anchor over at Miss Pineapple. There was a moment when she looked up in horror, then a moment when the anchor obscured her from view, and then an enormous splash and the clanking of chains unwinding to give the anchor more slack.

The mob instantly dispersed from Zoro’s side to leap to Miss Pineapple’s aid, and Zoro listened for the sounds of swimming.

Usopp didn’t run over to Zoro asking if he was all right, which was a slight surprise. Instead, he helped Zoro to stand, then to walk over to the railing, where they watched with mild interest as the goons pulled Miss Pineapple up onto the beach and attempted to press the water out of her thin chest.

Was that it? Was she defeated?

Was he just imagining it, or did he feel like he was being tugged back towards his old body again? Usopp seemed to feel it too, because their heads inclined closer, until they were leaning against each other. Zoro closed his eyes, and wondered if, when he opened them, he would be himself again.

Then Miss Pineapple called, “We’ll meet again, Roronoa Zoro! And your little Santouryuu sniper too!” He didn’t have to look to see that she was waving a fist at them. He sighed, exhausted.

_Maybe you should’ve fought after all_ , he considered saying.

_Please tell me your body has a high tolerance for alcohol_ , also sounded pretty good to him.

They stood at the railing a little longer, still leaning so that their temples touched, even though there was currently very little chance that they would be sucked back into their proper bodies. They were either hoping for a miracle, or just realizing that they had found one, small though it was.

“Zoro,” Usopp began. When Zoro shook his head, he could feel those three earrings brushing cool against his neck like a breath. Familiar, though they hung from someone else's ear. It would have to do.

“So,” Zoro mustered a tired grin as he turned to face Usopp. “How would you like to learn to hold a katana?”


	3. body long remembers

They say that a katana chooses its master…

At least, that’s what Zoro said, and Usopp figured a swordsman should probably know these things. Zoro had suggested that they start on one katana, and Usopp had gone from surprised to proud to suddenly, dreadfully anxious that none of the katana would choose him at all.

Zoro handled his weapons with a surprising tenderness not normally given to instruments of death. His hand lingered on each polished sheath as he set them onto the deck, and his voice was strangely gentle as he named each blade in soft tones of love and pride: “ _Wadou Ichimonji. Sandai Kitetsu. Yubashiri._ ”

Hard silence followed, and the sharp glare he directed at Usopp was weighted with something like a challenge. Usopp wasn’t even sure what the challenge was—defying him to show one whit of disrespect to Zoro’s swords, maybe, or testing if he was audacious enough to actually pick one up.

“Um,” said Usopp.

Zoro had taken a kneeling position on Merry’s sunny upper deck, perhaps reminded by the wooden floor of years of hard training in some dojo in the mountains, so Usopp had respected nostalgia and knelt down across from him. The swords lay on the sun-faded planks between their knees, stark and horizontal, joining the space between them like the rails of a train’s path. Usopp found it nearly impossible to look down.

It should probably have been an honor to be introduced to the swords, much less (unless Usopp had misunderstood horribly) invited to pick and to hold one. As far as he knew, there was no physical possession Zoro valued more than these swords, not even his own body. To take one, to wield one, would amount to the ultimate act of violation for Zoro, more invasive than even taking over his body had been—yet here Zoro knelt, practically encouraging Usopp to commit this final outrage.

“Um,” said Usopp.

An eyebrow twitched on Zoro’s face, marking his first movement since he’d set the last sword before them. He had been sitting perfectly still, expression entirely stoic, as though preparing to endure the worst ordeal of his life.

“What,” he demanded, in what sounded more like an order than a question.

“Um. I know you’re used to taking off your bandana after a fight,” Usopp began carefully, nodding to both bandanas now knotted around Zoro’s upper arm, black wrapped over checkered tan, “but maybe, while you’re in my body, you should wear it all the time.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the hair,” Usopp admitted. “It’s really hard to take you seriously when your hair is all over the place like that.”

Zoro irritably lifted a hand to the top of his head, where it flattened the black, curly explosion currently making its bid for freedom. This only caused more of the thick curls to protrude from either side of his head, which for whatever reason put Usopp in mind of a skunk.

“That reminds me,” Usopp continued, using his most serious voice so he wouldn’t laugh at the mental image of Zoro the Skunk, “you really should brush your hair, too. I mean it’s okay to hide it under a bandana most of the time, but it’ll only make things harder in the long run if you don’t take care of it from day to day. Not that you’re going to have to deal with it much longer, since we’re going to fix this and all, but maybe you could do me a favor, you know, make it easier for me when I get back.”

Zoro stared. His gaze traveled down to his swords, laid out like a sacrificial offering, and then back to Usopp, who wasn’t even looking at them. With wild, aggravated motions and a huge, insulted scowl, Zoro haphazardly tied his bandana back on, capturing most of the curls with a peremptory swipe and not bothering to round up the stragglers.

“Pick one,” he said flatly, when he had finished, indicating the swords at their knees with a sharp jerk of the chin.

“Um,” said Usopp.

“If you tell me I tied it on crooked,” Zoro said, and let the threat dangle.

It was crooked, and rather bumpy in spots, but Usopp thought it wise not to point this out.

“You don’t let anyone touch your swords,” Usopp said instead. He wasn’t even sure if he was stalling because he was nervous or because none of this seemed real to him.

“Unless they’re me,” said Zoro. “Which you are.”

“Yeah, but…” Hesitation.

“Look, this isn’t easy for me either,” said Zoro. “But you’ll take care of them, and your body knows.”

“Knows what?”

“How to work with them. How to respect them.” Zoro picked up the white sword, and with a smooth motion drew it from its sheath, as naturally as breath.

“ _Wadou Ichimonji_ ,” he introduced, and Usopp saw suddenly that it was more than just metal, the same way Merry was more than just a boat. There was something alive to it—if not a face, then at least a personality, a soul.

If swords were extensions of the swordsman, then here was the metallic embodiment of Zoro’s determination: the sweat and strain of his exercise, the roar of his blood, the ragged agony of his scars. The blade shone like the last smile you would ever see in this world, and the way its tapered edge glinted under the sunlight put Usopp in mind of the gleam in Zoro’s eyes when he did something absolutely ridiculous with his life, like throw it away on a million-to-one chance that nevertheless always seemed to turn out in his favor. He’d heard about Zoro trying to cut his own feet off in Little Garden, and though he hadn’t been there to see it, he now knew beyond a doubt which sword Zoro had used.

The katana was Zoro’s sacrifice and gain, his death and his purpose, and maybe part of that purpose was to protect, because she held Usopp long after she had been set down again, shielding him from the next blade as it was revealed, “ _Sandai Kitetsu_.” She didn’t release him until the thing was returned to its sheath, but even that brief glimpse of _Kitetsu_ ’s rippled blade had almost been too much. Usopp had seen the creature lurking there in all its repulsive beauty, a demon that seemed at once to dwell within the sword and to stand right over his shoulder, hot breath hissing down his face as thick and heavy as blood, gaze piercing through the back of his skull as sharp as death. Its expression was like something Usopp had only ever seen under a black, stained bandana, and as much as it terrified him to see Zoro like that, he was ten times gladder not to have to deal with the thing itself. He couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh as the red sword was finally set down, thanking _Wadou_ fervently for her thoughtfulness in her master’s oversight.

Then Zoro drew the last sword, and Usopp’s hand came up of its own volition.

“This one,” Usopp said instantly, reaching out though he stopped short of touching it, as though asking permission. Later he might rationalize— _Wadou_ was too precious, and _Kitetsu_ too scary—but he had known as soon as he saw his reflection in this blade what his choice had to be.

The sword slid back in its scabbard with a clack; as metal vanished into polished lacquer sheath, Usopp reeled with what was nearly a physical pang of loss. Zoro nodded knowingly, not-quite-smiling in that satisfied way as he handed over one of the three things that mattered most to him in the world. “ _Yubashiri_ ,” he intoned, as Usopp took the sword. “Light, responsive. An excellent katana. Go on, draw it.”

Usopp took a deep breath. He watched his own hands as though from a great distance; they didn’t waver at all as they pulled the most perfect ray of light from those black depths, and then Usopp was suddenly flooded with utter, perfect calm. _Yubashiri_ belonged in his hands, familiar and fulfilling and destined. He tested its weight, then lifted it into the air, awed simply by the radiant arcs it left dancing in his vision with each tentative swing.

“Good?” Zoro asked, the way someone else might have asked, “Are you okay?”

“Do you remember when we saved Syrup Village?” Usopp never took his eyes from the sword, _his_ sword. “You carried me from the slope to rescue Kaya, and you cut down the branch to give me a clear shot.”

“That wasn’t _Yubashiri_ I used.”

“How did you know?” Usopp asked, flicking the point of his sword down to the floorboards, then whirling suddenly to engage an invisible foe. “I didn’t say anything about that branch. I didn’t tell you it was in my way.”

“You didn’t need to.” Zoro fastened one sword to his hip, cast the other sheath away to hold up Wadou as though ready to attack. He turned the full force of his gaze on Usopp, who thought he should probably panic a little—considering what usually happened to people who had the full combined attention of Roronoa Zoro and _Wadou Ichimonji_ , who wouldn’t?—yet somehow, with _Yubashiri_ in his hands, he felt prepared.

“Aren’t you going to teach me how to block first?” Usopp touched a hand awkwardly to his pant leg, but there was no sweat to wipe away.

Zoro looked at him blankly for a moment. Then: “You don’t need me to. Block high.”

Steel sang as the swords met over Usopp’s head. Usopp couldn’t remember having moved to defend himself, but he must have, or he wouldn’t be alive to puzzle over it. Zoro’s downward thrust was heavier than he’d expected, and fending it off wasn’t quite as simple as it looked. For an exhilarating moment, _Yubashiri_ yielded under _Wadou_ ’s relentless pressure, sinking dangerously to Usopp’s head. If either sword felt anything odd at all about engaging their former nakama, they didn’t show it. Then, with one final burst of effort, Usopp managed to shove _Wadou_ away from his head and stumble back a few steps for space. He realized suddenly that he was still holding the black sheath in his left hand, even as he clutched the sword with his right. “Give a guy more warning next time, will you?”

“Middle,” said Zoro calmly, stepping forward to make up for lost room, and swept _Wadou_ as though aiming to cut Usopp’s torso in half. Usopp moved hurriedly to block, but _Wadou_ didn’t bother to clash with the blade that jerked out to meet her as she swung around and down for Usopp’s legs. “Low,” Zoro added, as though just remembering.

“It doesn’t help if you tell me _afterwards_!” Usopp protested breathlessly, parrying the attack with everything he had. He realized suddenly that he’d even thrust _Yubashiri_ ’s sheath into the fray and quickly pulled it back out before it could get cut.

“It doesn’t help you either way,” Zoro pointed out, gently disengaging their blades and checking his for damage. “I told you, you don’t need it. You know what to do.”

“I’m barely keeping off your attacks! If I can’t even defend myself, how do you expect me to attack?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to start with blocks, if you really want to know.” Zoro gave one of his sudden, startling grins. “I’ve always had sort of the opposite ideology—start with offense. Work on the defense after, if I survive.”

“Not expecting…?” Usopp worked this out in his mind. “You expected me to attack you straight off?”

“Well, yeah,” said Zoro. “That’s what a weapon is for. In fact, do it right now.” Zoro took a step back, pushed his sword up again in what Usopp now recognized as a defensive posture.

“I can’t do that!”

“I’m a lot better with one katana now than I was before, and I’m starting to get used to this body. Try me.”

“But what if I—?”

“If you can kill me, you can easily defeat that fruit salad cult,” said Zoro confidently. Usopp chose not to mention that Zoro had lost to the so-called fruit salad cult with three swords and was currently only armed with one.

“Then…” Usopp clenched his hands anxiously around _Yubashiri_ ’s hilt. No matter what, he was still Captain Usopp, brave warrior of the ocean and faultless sniper. He would simply aim for something nonfatal just in case Zoro didn’t know his new limits quite as well as he thought he did.

The attack flowed easily from abdomen to shoulder to arm, went down through his wrist and into the sword as though it were simply an extension of his body. Zoro was right about that much at least: this felt a lot more familiar than the blocks, almost effortless.

Too effortless, perhaps, and for a gut-wrenching moment Usopp was convinced that Zoro wouldn’t respond in time. At the last moment, _Wadou_ snaked up between _Yubashiri_ and its target, and Usopp could only sag in relief.

They held position for a few seconds, and Usopp was startled to find the warmth of pride slowly creep into his chest. The Great Captain certainly learned quickly! He had fended off all of Zoro’s attacks, and had delivered a blow to Zoro as well, all without either of them getting injured or dying. Even so, when the corner of Zoro’s mouth gave an alarming twitch, it didn’t look too much like a smile.

“Zoro?” Usopp asked.

“Are you afraid of me?” said Zoro, very serious.

“The Great Captain—” Usopp began, but stopped short at the sight of the naked blades tangled before him, at the darkness of _Yubashiri_ ’s hilt visible between his fingers. It didn’t seem right to talk about the Great Captain when Zoro had exposed everything that he was, or at least everything that mattered to him, and invited Usopp to grab, to take.

“Are you afraid of my katana?” Zoro pressed, giving _Wadou_ a push so that the blades each cried out against the other’s edge.

Usopp gave a hesitant nod. “But who wouldn’t be?” he asked. “It’s stupid not to fear the person you’re fighting.”

Zoro’s tiny shrug didn’t quite upset the balance of their swords.

“Then, are you afraid of your own katana?” With a sudden jerk, Zoro swept his sword away, flipping it and bringing it back so quickly that Usopp didn’t know how to react, except to bring sword and sheath up to block.

“Are you afraid that it will turn on you? Hurt you?” And then, bewilderingly, _Yubashiri_ was tilted up to his throat, _Wadou_ a steady pressure that forced the biting edge of his blade against his skin. Zoro loomed up behind the crossed blades; he was shorter than Usopp in their current bodies, yet somehow he was looking down at Usopp, and the grim, awful expression he was making was a terrible thing to do to any face, much less Usopp’s, because what if it did freeze like that after all?

For a moment, Usopp struggled against the swords, to no success. Then, on instinct, he gave up, stepped back, and Zoro let his sword fall away.

“It’s not that,” Usopp gasped, “although—if you _didn’t_ want me to be afraid of my sword, that was really not the best idea.” Usopp involuntarily put a hand to his throat, half-expecting it to come away crimson. “For a sniper, though, this is just too different. Zoro, you know, of all the fighters on this ship, you’re the only one who makes his opponents bleed.”

“What?” Zoro glanced down at his katana, then back up, uncomprehending.

“Punching, kicking, pachinko ball,” Usopp listed, “it’s hard to kill someone accidentally with any of these. This blade is sharp, though. To actually feel it cut under my hand—well, the Great Captain Usopp has rarely had to resort to such crude methods and doesn’t see the need to start now.”

“So,” Zoro said slowly, as though reading a foreign language and hoping not to mispronounce things too badly, “what you’re actually afraid of is hurting the person you attack? Is that the problem?”

“Not afraid,” Usopp corrected desperately, drawing up to give himself more height. “The Great Captain merely finds unnecessary gore distasteful. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea—”

When Zoro stared like that, Usopp could tell the swordsman really had no idea what to say. “You have the body of a swordsman,” Zoro finally told him, sheathing his sword and turning to leave. “Your muscles remember how a sword moves, your skin remembers how a sword feels. I’ll give you some more time to think about it, if that’s what you want. But know that there’s nobody in the world more qualified to learn this than you.”

_“Usopp, how would you like to learn to hold a katana?”_

And Usopp suddenly remembered how gratified he had felt at that offer, like he’d been selected for something good and rare. Zoro didn’t let people touch his swords, and Zoro didn’t teach. As far as he knew, Zoro didn’t do anything but eat and train, sleep and fight, maybe drink some alcohol and polish his swords on the side. All of this had only made Usopp more eager to accept, to take this crash course in manliness in the hopes of emerging on the other side a little more proud, a little more brave, a little more like Zoro.

Yet despite all of that, he had struggled with Zoro every step of the way, putting up resistance where he should’ve just gone along. For a moment, Usopp looked around for Zoro with half a mind to call him back, but Zoro was nowhere to be seen, and Usopp slumped heavily against the railing.

He might have left behind his old body, entered one that was tougher and stronger, covered with scars and filled with experience, but he’d never felt so much the coward.

Then he realized that he still held _Yubashiri_ , sword and sheath, in his two hands.

* * *

Zoro had to admit that he was at a loss.

His body was exhausted, and it saw no reason not to tell him so, in the most painful way possible. His muscles had stiffened the instant he’d dropped into one of the chairs in the kitchen, locking as though to prevent him from ever getting up again. His head, which since morning had throbbed like an egg full of squirming baby alligators, now felt ready to hatch open. His fingers ached from the unfamiliar grip of his katana, and his jaw was so sore he wasn’t sure how he was even breathing.

Normally, he had many tricks for combating the weaknesses of his body. No matter how strong a swordsman was, he would eventually run up against the limitations of his body, and as such had to invent ways to deal with them. In usual circumstances, he could take a nap, which would basically fix everything. He could drink rum, which wouldn’t fix anything, but would take an edge off the pain and at least make him feel like it had. He could beat stuff up, which would really make things worse for his body, but at least the adrenaline would make him feel damn proud of himself as he struggled to remain upright. Or he could force himself on, keep training through the agony, because something something only makes you stronger, after all, and he was pretty sure the “something something” part of that phrase wasn’t that important anyway.

Unfortunately, his new body hurt too much to sleep, hated the taste of alcohol, and, strangest of all, it refused to be coaxed into movement with the promises of “stronger, stronger,” that had always worked before.

“Maybe that training bit with Usopp was too much,” Zoro tried to say, though all that managed to work its way from his jaws was a low groan.

Speaking (or not) of Usopp, he hoped the new resident of his body was at least taking the opportunity to sleep, since he, Zoro, couldn’t. How long had it been since Zoro and Usopp’s training session? It felt like hours that he’d sat at this table, and why weren’t the others back yet?

Ah, but Usopp had done brilliantly for his first time holding a katana. He had submitted to instinct and the voice of his sword, and the only barrier had been his hesitation to actually injure his opponent. Usopp really was more of a protector than a fighter, Zoro reflected, slightly drunk on exhaustion despite his lack of alcohol; for all his stories of Captain Usopp, the man wasn’t interested in violence unless it was necessary to defend what was important to him.

Then Zoro thought back to Usopp’s fight with Sanji last night, and his aching face spread into a tortured grin. Usopp wasn’t a fan of violence, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a good fight. Zoro dropped a hand to his swords, stroked _Wadou_ and _Kitetsu_ with absent fingers. Maybe there was something to be made of that fact.

He stood with great difficulty, staggered out of the kitchen, and began to hobble his way along, clutching to walls whenever his legs felt close to giving out.

Usopp wasn’t in immediate sight, but with a homing instinct some might not believe he possessed, Zoro lurched his way to the upper deck, heading for his usual training spot. There Usopp was, wearing Zoro’s body, and at first Zoro almost thought that it was himself, practicing kata or perhaps making one up. The illusion was only broken when Usopp occasionally faltered as muscle memory failed, once even coming to a full stop. He turned in Zoro’s direction, as though for guidance, apparently unsurprised to see Zoro standing (leaning) there.

“Step forward, rising strike,” said Zoro, who recognized the kata. “Is that the sheath you’re holding in your left hand?”

“Er, yes. I didn’t know what to do with my free hand,” Usopp explained. “There’s not enough room for both hands on the hilt, and it feels awkward just letting it dangle there.”

“At least you won’t lose the sheath this way,” said Zoro, “though you might get it cut or broken.”

“Uh,” Usopp hesitated, glancing down at the sheath. “How dead would I be if that happened?” Even asking about the possibility of his death, he didn’t sound particularly worried. It was good seeing Usopp so calm, as though realizing he actually did know what he was doing with a sword had given him some of the confidence he normally lacked.

Then Usopp continued the motions of the kata, so Zoro didn’t feel the need to respond. He sat down, and a strange contentment welled up within him, a feeling that normally had to do with training or winning but now didn’t seem to correspond to either.

He felt like he could fall asleep after all.


End file.
